


biting down

by cassandralied



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood Drinking, Canon Compliant, Crushes, F/F, Pining, Vampires, except for the vampire bit obviously, surprise introspection, the inherent homoeroticism of having a morality pet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:40:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23220358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassandralied/pseuds/cassandralied
Summary: “You need to eat,” she insists, so goddamn certain. “Figured this was easier than breaking into a blood bank at this hour.” She’s nervous, too, even as she tries to hide the tremor in her voice. She might have even succeeded, if her heartbeat hadn’t been Daisy’s metronome as long as they’d known each other, and it’s speeding up.--After she comes out of the Buried, Daisy needs to eat, and Basira's willing to help.
Relationships: Basira Hussain/Alice "Daisy" Tonner
Comments: 9
Kudos: 67





	biting down

**Author's Note:**

> I do not consent for this story to be posted on any third-party apps or anywhere except for Archive of Our Own.
> 
> This story is unofficially dedicated to everyone in this fandom who's written a vampire au because they're all sexy as fuck and had their part in inspiring this one.

“You’re starving.”

It’s not a question. Daisy answers it anyway. “I’m fine.”

Basira isn’t convinced, obviously. Her burnt-coffee eyes glitter, unreadable but with something like concern in their depths. All she says is, “You’re obviously not,” but she doesn’t broach the subject again until they’ve reached the relative safety of her apartment.

It feels so _big_ —everything feels big, she supposes, after the coffin, but Daisy finds herself exhaling into open space and a raised ceiling that doesn’t threaten to bury her in rubble. The London sky that shows out the windows is cloudy and gray but it’s still brighter than anything Daisy’s seen in six months, and when she drinks it in she can almost forget the hunger.

 _Almost_.

Basira’s taking off her hijab —this one’s rose-colored, and made of a pale gauzy material —and folding it neatly into a drawer. She undoes her bun too, and there’s something so vulnerable about the cascade of dark hair around delicate shoulders. Daisy can’t remember if this is the first time she’s seen Basira without her hijab. She knows it’s not the first time she’s been to her apartment.

Still with her back to Daisy, her partner begins unbuttoning her shirt, and that’s when the blonde cop balks. “What are you doing?”

Basira stops at one button, but she doesn’t turn around. She meets Daisy’s eyes in the hall mirror instead.

“You need to eat,” she insists, so goddamn _certain_. “Figured this was easier than breaking into a blood bank at this hour.” She’s nervous, too, even as she tries to hide the tremor in her voice. She might have even succeeded, if her heartbeat hadn’t been Daisy’s metronome as long as they’d known each other, and it’s speeding up.

“No,” Daisy repeats. “Absolutely not. Basira, I —”

“Take a shower first,” Basira orders, and despite her hummingbird heart, she’s still _so calm_. “You’re still covered in —”

“Yeah.”

She’s suddenly aware of how _exhausted_ she is, not just drained of sustenance but of _everything_. Grit clings to her eyelashes, her scalp, the spaces between her teeth, and a shower sounds amazing.

She can talk Basira out of this nonsense after a shower.

* * *

Daisy takes her time. Turns the water up to scalding because it’s so nice just to feel, and it’s reinvigorating to her dried-up veins. Dirty, black water stains the pale blue tile floor and runs into the drain and Daisy keeps scrubbing as if she can peel her skin off.

Finally, she turns the spray off and wraps herself in a towel that feels too forgiving against her aching skin. Wrings the wet out of her pale hair —she’d used an awful lot of Basira’s shampoo, and at the stab of guilt she reminds herself to pay her partner back as soon as possible.

She _knows_ they’re not partners anymore. Basira’s not even an officer now, and Daisy’s on a much tighter leash. But she can’t stop herself thinking of the other woman that way, as the completing half to herself. The silk-hiding-steel soft control that is _Basira_ where Daisy is all furious impulse and fang.

She’s dawdled long enough with drying herself off, but can’t bear to shrug on her grit-covered clothes again, so she keeps the towel on as she steps out of the bathroom.

Basira’s sitting on the bed, spine _too_ straight, trying to read a book. Her eyes dart up to Daisy as soon as the door opens. “Hey, you.”

It’s unmistakably affectionate, and that prompts a smile out of Daisy. “Hey.”

The top button of Basira’s black shirt is still unbuttoned, and the sliver of skin it shows seems too much, suddenly. More than using her shower, more than seeing her without her hijab, that bared inch of neck makes Daisy feel like she’s gone too far. She wants to flee.

Basira closes her book. “Are you ready, then?”

Daisy can’t say no. Her mouth is too dry, and she’s too goddamn _hungry_. She nods, weakly, and Basira’s heartbeat kicks up just a bit, but no sign of fear shows on her face. “Good. Uh, sit on the bed, I suppose.”

Daisy silently obeys.

Basira stands between Daisy’s legs, so she’s eye level with the little indentation of soft flesh between Basira’s collarbones.

She wants to lick it.

It’s never been this intimate, drinking from past victims, but that’s no surprise —everything’s different with Basira. Slowly, as if trying not to spook a frightened animal, Basira unwraps the towel from Daisy’s body, baring an unlifetime of scars. For a minute, her calloused hands hold Daisy’s shoulders, steadying them both. Then she moves to her own shirt again, button by button, so fucking precise it’s almost unbearable.

She doesn’t stop until the shirt’s fully open, and then she shrugs it off and lets it fall to a crumpled pile on the floor. Her breasts swell as she breathes, up and down. It’s so _human_.

“This too?” Daisy asks in a voice too breathy to be her own, as her hands remember to move and reach around to the bra clasp. Basira’s skin is so hot under her fingers. Daisy never wants to stop touching her.

At Basira’s nod, she unclasps it and sets it on the bed.

Basira’s nipples are dark, and Daisy wants to bite them until one of them comes. She wants to trace Basira’s femoral artery with her tongue.

But Basira’s leaning down and arching her neck, and they’re only doing this for one reason anyway, so Daisy breathes a breath she doesn’t need, heavy and hot onto Basira’s neck just to watch her shiver. She licks her lips nervously, and Daisy’s eyes follow the movement.

“You sure?” she murmurs into Basira’s soft, yielding skin, and feels her partner nod into her. “Yeah.”

Then she bites down.

Daisy’s never been religious, but she thinks that this is the closest she’s been to worship. And she hates herself, of course she does, for being such a monster that she has to taint the one person she’d ever cared for. But it’s hard to focus on how horrible she is when Basira’s blood is pumping fresh into her mouth, when that dark, elegant neck is arched in a submission that isn’t submission at all. Basira’s muscles twitch minutely with the urge not to move, and Daisy’s abruptly grateful that her mouth is full of hot, sticky blood because there’s nothing else preventing her from blurting out _I love you._

Daisy drinks, and drinks, and pulls back when she sees Basira’s eyelashes begin to flutter. At some point she’d yanked Basira into her lap for better access, and Basira’s trouser-clad legs are wrapped around Daisy’s waist like the gentlest vice.

“Look at me,” Daisy murmurs, tilting Basira’s chin up with her finger, checking for lucidity. “Basira.”

“‘M here,” Basira says, slurring slightly. She sounds drunk. Daisy supposes it’s not uncommon after blood loss, but she doesn’t know for sure. She usually drains her victims dry and makes sure no one finds the bodies.

Daisy laps tenderly over the wound to soothe it, two ragged pinpricks right at the juncture of Basira’s shoulder and neck. “Stay. I’ll get you some juice and a bandage.”

She carefully dislodges Basira from herself and lays the other woman out on the bed. “Keep those pretty eyes open for me.”

“Bossy,” Basira mumbles, and Daisy smiles.

After she’s made Basira drink a full glass of orange juice and put an adhesive bandage over the bite, they rest on Basira’s white coverlet with Basira’s head on Daisy’s shoulder.

“Tell me about your day,” Basira says softly, and Daisy is startled into a huffed laugh. That’s how they’d used to get through boring stakeouts. Sometimes they’d make up fantastical stories, and sometimes they’d talk about real stuff, but it always started with that sentence.

“Let’s see. Today I got pulled out of a mystical coffin by someone I tried to kill, and then my —and then _you_ let me drink your blood.”

“Mm.” She can feel Basira smiling into her shoulder. “And how does that make you _feel_?”

“Oh, shut up.”

Basira snickers, and Daisy wraps a clumsy arm around her shoulders. Neither of them had made any move to put their clothes back on, although she doesn’t know if that means anything.

In the kitchen, Daisy’s cellphone rings, and she tenses slightly. She hadn’t heard that sound in a while. The ringtone is the duck quacking noise that comes with the phone, because Daisy had thought she was funny that day.

“Isn’t that Bouchard’s?” Basira asks. She sounds like she’s falling asleep.

“Yeah,” Daisy says, pulls Basira closer to herself. Basira willingly snuggles in, one of her hands playing with the loose hair at the nape of Daisy’s neck.

“Shouldn’t you get it?”

“Nah.” Satiated and with Basira practically in her lap for the second time that day, Daisy doesn’t remember being this content in a long time. “He can leave a message.”

The rush of the Hunt’s gone quiet, and all she can hear is the steady beat of Basira’s heart.

**Author's Note:**

> literally any other vampire: you don’t have to be half naked to feed  
> daisy and basira: haha sounds fake


End file.
